


Sickness, A.M.

by 169daysleft



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Gen, Pregnancy Scares, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/169daysleft/pseuds/169daysleft
Summary: A few weeks Stevie and David hook up and after David is retrieved from the Amish farm, Stevie gets sick. In the morning. And her period is late. Stevie and David, obviously, handle the situation with maturity and thoughtfulness.





	Sickness, A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that I haven't been able to get out of my head, so I finally had to write it. It's meant to be set sometime in early season 2. Not beta'd, so any fuck ups are my own. CW: Brief but rather callous mentions of abortion, so watch out.

David stormed into the motel lobby, already fuming over having been stood up for lunch. He had been stood up by much more famous people at much nicer venues, but being forced to wait at the Cafe Tropical of all places somehow felt like a new low.

“Stevie?” He said shrilly. “Stevie! Where are you?” He heard a nondescript grunt coming from the room behind the desk, followed by a quiet, “Oh god, no. I’m late.”

“Yes, I know you’re late, Stevie, that’s why I’m here and not eating a very mediocre lunch at the cafe right now.” He walked quickly behind the desk and into the back room. At first glance it appeared empty, but then David noticed the half open door to the bathroom and strode over towards it, indignant.

“What I don’t get is if you know you’re late, then why are you here-” David paused as he got to the open door and spotted Stevie. She was kneeling on the floor, leaning up against the toilet seat, looking positively green.

“I’m late.” She moaned again, before hunching over the toilet bowl to retch up bile. David grimaced at the noise, but crept closer and very carefully held back her hair with two fingers held out at an arm's length.

“Um, Stevie, are you okay? You’re obviously sick, so I can forgive you for being late to lunch.

“That’s not what I mean.” She groaned, mostly into the bowl. “I’m late, David. I’m sick and I’m late.”

“Stevie, I don’t care that you were late to lunch. Honestly, it's probably best that you didn’t go.” He said, glancing at her sickly form with barely concealed disgust.

“Not late to lunch, David. My period is three weeks late. And I’m sick.” She gagged into the toilet again as David began to connect the dots.

“You don’t mean- wait- you’re pregnant?” Stevie nodded. “Was I the last person you had sex with?” David fumbled out. Stevie nodded again, miserably.  
“You used a condom though, right?” She double checked. A long silence answered her, and she looked up at him, incredulous.

“Wait, you didn’t use a condom? You put your dick in my vagina and you didn’t use a condom? Are you fucking serious?”

“Well, there weren’t any around! I was high!” He said defensively.

“And you didn’t consider that THIS might happen?” She gestured wildly at her hunched over form.

“You said you were on the pill!” David was getting increasingly shrill.

“No, I said I was on pills! I found a bottle of Vicodin left in one of the rooms.”

“Oh my God! We’re gonna have a crack baby.” David shrieked.

“Okay, well it’s not a crack baby if the drug’s not crack, but still. This is bad. This is very, very bad.”

“Wait, if you’re not on birth control, then why didn’t YOU mention condoms?” David asked, suddenly accusatorial.

“I don’t know, David, I get horny and dumb when I’m high, I didn’t think about it in the moment. And then your family found out we slept together, and I was trying to deal with all of that shame, and then there was the dinner party, and then after that it was mostly me pegging you, so I didn’t have to think about it again!”

“Neither of us is cut out for parenthood. What do we do?” He was starting to hyperventilate at this point. Stevie just moaned in despair.

“I don’t know. I guess we should go to the doctor? Maybe we can get rid of it?” She said.

“Okay, yeah.” David said, obviously trying to calm himself down before a full panic attack could start. “Okay. Okay, we can do this. I guess I’ll drive you to Ted’s office?”

“David, I’m not getting an abortion from the fucking vet. Just drive me to the clinic in Elmdale.” Stevie tried to stand up, her hands briefly pushing up on the toilet seat in an attempt to gain leverage, before they went limp and dry-heaved again.

“Help me get to the car.” She groaned, making grabby hands at David.

“Ew, no! What if you vomit on my-”

“DAVID.”

“...Okay, but just know that this sweater is Helmut Lang and I will make you replace it if it gets ruined.”

-

The doctor waved the ultrasound bar over her abdomen again, and then looked back at the monitor thoughtfully.

“Well, Ms. Budd, you do not appear to be pregnant.”

David and Stevie glanced at each other, and then looked back towards the doctor.

“Are you sure?” David asked, squinting at the monitor, head tilted in confusion. He wasn’t sure how the doctor could tell anything from what looked to him to be a screen old-timey television static. Stevie nodded in agreement, also looking unsure. The doctor looked amused, but humored the two of them.

“Ms. Budd, you said the last time you had vaginal intercourse was around 7 weeks ago?” She paused as Stevie nodded in affirmation. “If you had gotten pregnant then, we would have been able to see the fetal pole in the embryo, and possibly even the heartbeat. The illness you were feeling earlier must not have been morning sickness. It was likely just a stomach virus you picked up that weakened your immune system, which resulted in your body to delaying your menstrual cycle.” The doctor explained.

“Thank you so much, doctor.” Stevie said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome. For the stomach bug, I suggest just making sure you get lots of fluids and rest. It should clear up on its own in a day or two, but if it doesn’t, get your boyfriend here to bring you back.”

“Oh no, he’s not my-”  
“We’re not dating-”  
“We’re just friends.” Stevie and David stumbled over themselves to deny the heinous accusation. The doctor looked clearly amused, but acquiesced.

“My mistake. Either way, if you aren’t feeling better in a few days, have someone bring you back for another appointment. If that’s all you have for me though, I’ll get you cleaned up and you can head out to reception.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Stevie said again, and laid back so the doctor could wipe up the gel on her stomach.

-

It took a few minutes of driving before David broke the silence in the car

“So. We’re not gonna be parents.” He said, slow and tense, like it hadn’t quite sunk in yet.

“No. We're not." Stevie took deep breath, and released it in a rush. "Thank fuck.” she said, visibly relieved.

“Thank fuck.” David parroted. “Can you imagine if we had to raise a baby together? Us?” He shuddered visibly, one of his hands leaving the wheel to drag down his face in dismay.

“Please, let’s not even imagine. Today has been enough of a nightmare, we don’t need to add hypotheticals to it.” Stevie heaved another sigh of relief, before slumping further into the passenger seat. “God, I can’t wait to drink and forget this day. I nearly lost booze for nine months, and I am intending on making up for it.”

“God, that sounds grea- wait, should you be drinking? You’re still sick.” David’s eyes remained on the road, but he sounded concerned.

“Does that mean you don’t wanna break into the Zhampagne tonight, then?” Stevie glanced at him, unconvinced by his worry.

“...Well, I suppose the doctor did tell you to keep your fluids up. Just don’t get mad at me when you feel worse tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two as disaster friends, but I'm not sure how well I got their dynamic down. Feel free to leave constructive criticism.


End file.
